Within two weeks of their new relationship, Jutta and Koen went back to Kink Paradise to buy the bed, which Koen initially had so much comment on. Planks running the length of the bed connect four sturdy black wooden posts. Four planks across the width of the bed give it extra strength and bondage possibilities. A dark red headboard and footboard give the bed a rich look and feel. The bedding itself is a simple queen size bed. Built-in restraint points and rings are featured on the frame. But a metal cage under the bed is an immediate distraction—making feature that makes the bedroom unsuitable for vanilla visitors. Tall enough to crouch down in, and strong and sturdy enough for someone to safely stay inside. A door with two locks, one on top and one on the bottom, ensures that only someone from the outside can let the person inside out.
Within two weeks of their new relationship, Jutta and Koen went back to Kink Paradise to buy the bed, which Koen initially had so much comment on. Planks running the length of the bed connect four sturdy black wooden posts. Four planks across the width of the bed give it extra strength and bondage possibilities. A dark red headboard and footboard give the bed a rich look and feel. The bedding itself is a simple queen size bed. Built-in restraint points and rings are featured on the frame. But a metal cage under the bed is an immediate distraction—making feature that makes the bedroom unsuitable for vanilla visitors. Tall enough to crouch down in, and strong and sturdy enough for someone to safely stay inside. A door with two locks, one on top and one on the bottom, ensures that only someone from the outside can let the person inside out.
Within two weeks of their new relationship, Jutta and Koen went back to Kink Paradise to buy the bed, which Koen initially had so much comment on. Planks running the length of the bed connect four sturdy black wooden posts. Four planks across the width of the bed give it extra strength and bondage possibilities. A dark red headboard and footboard give the bed a rich look and feel. The bedding itself is a simple queen size bed. Built-in restraint points and rings are featured on the frame. But a metal cage under the bed is an immediate distraction—making feature that makes the bedroom unsuitable for vanilla visitors. Tall enough to crouch down in, and strong and sturdy enough for someone to safely stay inside. A door with two locks, one on top and one on the bottom, ensures that only someone from the outside can let the person inside out.
“No, surprisingly not. I will miss the loyal people who have worked for me, some over ten years. I will miss the tension before the dungeon meetings. Perhaps I even will miss some of our regulars that came every year to the hotel. But it is time to say goodbye. No more running up and down the stairs forty times a day. Cleaning rooms when one of the staff called in sick. No more toiling away in the kitchen to make hundreds of Christmas cookies!”
Mistress turned away from the oven and, without warning, she scooped me into her arms her touch surprisingly gentle. “What is it, sweetheart? You can tell me.”
Sweetheart was a rare exception, which she only used when she felt I needed it. ‘Slut’ was her most used form of address. They both sounded the same to me, when the mistress said them.
“It is difficult, mistress.”
“I know.” A silence stretched between us before the mistress finally broke it. “It’s about the bedroom, isn’t it?”
My mistress has a direct line from her senses to my brain. She knows what I’m thinking with frightening frequency. “Yes, mistress.”
“Tell me about what is bothering you. The success of this relationship hinges on our willingness to openly and honestly communicate even about those things that make us uncomfortable or that we are resistant to discussing.”
“I know I should feel embarrassed and humiliated when I am in my cell down there. I should envy you and have your guts for breakfast. Instead, I feel the opposite. The sounds of bodies slapping in lust, the groaning, dirty talking it all is so HOT and I can’t resist getting so excited I want, no I need to cum. With your help, Koen could step out of his comfort zone and accomplish new tasks. Like yesterday, when you confessed to him, humiliation turns you on and he spat in your face. In all those years, I never could make him do that to me. You share your thoughts and feelings freely, and his reaction is incredibly positive and unexpected. I wish I could do that as well, mistress. My only regret is that I didn’t do so earlier when I had the chance.”
Mistress said nothing and was busy decorating our Christmas wreaths. There was nothing more to be said. To quote Lewis Caroll: “In the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take, the relationships we were afraid to have, and the decisions we waited too long to make.”
I plodded on, “Last week you asked the master for a fistfuck. As if that was not courageous enough, I only heard you moan ‘Harder’, ‘Deeper’ Not once you asked him to ease back a bit. I was right beneath you, and if my hands hadn’t been cuffed, I would rub myself to one of the best orgasms I have had for a long time. I picked up the pillow and put it between my legs and rode the pillow like a bitch in heat. Somehow I couldn’t come from that, and I howled in disappointment. You see how sick and twisted I am? Instead of being jealous of you, I am so horny I can hardly think!”
“Take the cookies out of the oven, slut.” Jutta said as the buzzer hummed. I did so, carefully. They looked good enough to eat.
“Have you ever heard of a Cuckquean?” Without waiting for my answer, Jutta went on, “a Cuckquean is a woman who gets sexual pleasure from her husband having sex with other women. The most common quean gets off on the humiliation of having a partner who seeks other women over her. She may want to be degraded, denied sexual activity, and dommed by her husband or his cake. A quean encourages her husband to partake in sexual or romantic relationships with other women, sharing her partner’s arousal. Or offer her husband to a female friend whom she feels is deserving of or in need of sex with him. You are happy when others are happy. A cuckquean may not be so common as a cuckold, but you are far from the only one who gets off on it. Simply accept who you are as you are, without guilt or shame. If anything, it makes our love triangle a lot easier from a purely practical point of view.”
“You give me a lot to think about, mistress,” I said.
She smirked. “It’s a good thing you’re restricted from speaking starting from now on.”
“Master?” I said.
“What is it, Sylvia?” Master Koen answered. He forgets sometimes to call me slut, or slave. Perhaps he does it on purpose. No, I don’t think so.
“Your frank and trusting relationship with my mistress is something I strangely admire, even envy. I would love if I could have some of that. I am willing to work hard for it, Sir.”
“What stands in the way, slut”, I heard some steel in my mistress’ voice. They were both sitting on the couch, and I was leaning against it on the floor.
“My past, mistress.” I whispered.
“Speak up, slut,” Master Koen said, raising his voice.
“My past is in the way, Master. So many things have happened. So many things I cannot tell you. I am just a lying bitch, Sir.”
Koen stood up and walked out of the living room. Mistress Jutta kept softly caressing my bald head. Within minutes, Koen came back. In his hands three books, that made my heart skip a beat.
“I ask that you inform your mistress of the books that I brought with me from my home.” Koen said with stainless steel in his voice.
“These are my diaries.” I whispered. Why couldn’t you sink through the ground if you really had to? Why didn’t people have trapdoors in their houses where you could pull a rope and end up in a filthy basement, full of vermin, with no windows or fresh air?
“Exactly. I think these are what people call journals these days; your own personal life, in your own neat writing. I have never ever read a page from them. A diary should be personal and I respect that. If you are ready to be honest with us, if your intentions are sincere, I need you to read aloud the sections that you want us to know. It’s time to wipe the slate clean.”
“You look so pale, sweetheart. Breathe. I know it is difficult, but you owe it to yourself. You are so strong. You can do this.”
“I am so ashamed,” I wept.
“It is your choice, Sylvia. We will not force you. We refuse to read it. So if you want us to know what is in it, you will have to read it aloud.” Koen said softly.
“I don’t know if I can…” I said. I started to shake so heavily, Jutta wrapped a blanket around me as tight as she could. Koen carried me to bed and there I was, a mummy between the two people I loved the most in this world. I fell asleep between them. Safe. Protected.
The next day, the only thing I could think of was that I would lose both of them if I read in my diary. There was no way they could ever look at me with a shred of respect if they knew what was inside. I always thought that Koen had read them. They were on my bookshelf, not hidden or anything. Yet, he told me he didn’t. I believed him. It’s a Koen-thing to do. At the end of the day, when we were sitting in our familiar places in the living room, I grabbed the books from the table without thinking.
My neat handwriting as a young girl shocked me. I remembered being proud of my neat handwriting, wanting my diary entries to look as pristine and perfect as possible. On the floor with my back towards the couple on the couch, I thanked the Lord I did not believe in for this small favour.
Monday, July 15th 1980
From day one, Koen and I had amazing communication—it was the best part of our relationship. We talk all day. Even at school, we write each other quick messages. We share lunch, and we talk after school. Our phone conversations last until late at night. We can talk about all subjects from religion to world politics, from the best fast-food restaurant to sex. We talk a lot about sex. Duh! I think I am the most horny girl in school. I needed panty liners for my dripping pussy. Today we talked about his most secret fantasies and mine.
“I know you do NOT want to talk about your fantasies, but I am going to FORCE you,” I told Koen today.
“You are my fantasy, Sylvia.” He said. I love him.
“No, I’m not. I’m just your plaything. But you have to promise me that if I share my big secret, you will share yours. Besides, my fantasy is even scarier than yours, so if I can muster the courage to reveal my deep inner thoughts, so can you. I’m a mere girl, whereas you are a tough guy. If I can open up, you cannot remain closed.”
“Why do you think I have such dark secrets, Syl? Maybe I have told you all there is to know about me. We have talked about sex for ages now. You know who I lost my V-card to. I have told you what I have done already. What more is there to know?”
“So you don’t want to know my dark secret, I’m longing to tell you at last?”
“Of course I do, but only if you want to tell me.” Don’t I have the best boyfriend in the world? He possesses a candy heart. That made it even more difficult to tell my secret. If I hadn’t believed that he also had a dark side, I wouldn’t have found the strength to confess my darkness. I took my sleeping mask from my bag.
“Put this on. I can only tell my secret if you can’t see me. I promise I will do the same for you.”
Obediently, he put on the mask and I stretched out on the couch and rested my head on his lap. I took his hand under my sweater and his fingers cupped my bare breast. Tit.
“Hold it there, but don’t move your hand. I just need to know that you are as close to holding my heart as you possibly can. Please remain silent as I reveal my most confidential secret to you.” I took several deep breaths. Perhaps this was the last time I was in my favourite position here on the couch with him. He might not want to do anything with me anymore after this. But if he owed it to himself to come clean, I certainly owed it to my happiness in the future just as much.
“With a husband in the military, my mother is used to my father being in charge. That is what he is doing for his job, and he doesn’t have an OFF button when he comes home. If we want anything, we could ask mum, but she always said: ‘Ask your dad.’ And my dad, being in the army and all, was used to making decisions. It was not a strange situation for us. Our friends have dads in the military and they are in similar households. Our mums stay at home and take care of us, our dads take care of all of us at home. If I need love and comfort, I go to Mum. If I need money or a sleepover at my friend’s house, I go to dad. It never occurred to me that my mother was a submissive woman until Sybil told me. My sister is only three years older than me and my teacher in so many ways. When I was fourteen, my sister cornered me when I complained I could not go out with a boy.”
“Like our mum, you are very submissive as well, maybe even more so,” Sybil said. “You smell a dominant person even before you meet them and your body reacts to that instantly.”
“Does not!”
“You know you react to very strong-willed people, Sylvia, and you know that as well as I do. Your yearning to make them happy outweighs your own strength.” I definitely said no, but she gave me a few examples where I did something I didn’t really want to, but because she or dad asked me to, I simply did it anyway. I couldn’t deny that.
“So, I like to please people. Is that so bad?” I asked her challengingly. She didn’t take my bait and stayed calm. “No, of course not. It’s who you are. Let me show you what it means to be you.”
Suddenly, she stepped forward, grabbed my tiny tits through my bra. With a sudden move, she pulled me to her. I wanted to cry, but before I could utter a sound, she had covered my mouth and kissed me on the mouth. Her tongue invited mine and before I realised what was going on, I was French kissing my sister with all that was in me. And all the time she was kissing me, she twisted my poor nipples like she wanted to tear them off me. I didn’t step back, nor did I run away to seek help from the adult in the house. Instead, I just moaned in her mouth. When she finally stepped back. She pulled me over her knee and spanked me harshly. As kids, my dad never spanked me. Unlike in some other countries, children in the Netherlands are rarely spanked; instead, parents prefer to talk to us to help us understand our mistakes. So when she ripped my panties down and started hitting my ass as if she hated me, I was stunned. She said nothing as the blows came to my buttocks so fast. After a thousand, maybe ten thousand, perhaps a hundred thousand slaps on my behind, she said, “stand up. No, leave your panties where they are!”
“I stood there. She kissed me again and moaned as her hand wiggled her way to my clittie. I was humiliated beyond I was ever before. The humiliation I felt now was greater than when I had an embarrassing period incident at school, staining my white pants. My sister made me come like I had never before. At the same time, all the mixed feelings fell into place. I nearly fainted. She needed to assist me to stop me from collapsing. She took me in her arms and whispered all the sweet nothings to me I longed to hear.”
“For a year, my sister was my teacher in sex.” I told Koen. I felt his hard-on. The story had made him horny. “Sybil was my dominatrix that introduced me to pain and humiliation. And I never felt better in my life. Well, maybe now I have you, Koen, but you understand what I mean, don’t you? She made me understand that what I was feeling was weird, scary and strange. Yet she told me to stop trying to understand it, and just accept that I differed from vanilla people. That I liked Bondage, lots of Discipline, Sadism and Masochism. My body was singing B. D. S. M.”
I am not so scared anymore that he would stand up, run to the door, to never come back. For one thing, this thing poking at the back of my head for some time would make it difficult to run. “You can put the mask off now.” I said. For a moment I was scared to look into his eyes, but like always, I only saw love there.
“It’s time to switch roles.” I said and grabbed the mask. I jumped up, sat down on the other side of the couch, and patted my lap. “Rest your weary head, Koen. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
He was nervous as hell. I felt almost guilty for pushing him far enough to feel him tremble on my lap. Yet, if we were to have a future together, this had to come out somehow. This was probably my only shot at making him tell me what he felt.
“Wait”, I said, already blindfolded. I tugged my sweater over my head to allow him to look from my lap to the underside of my bust. I felt his hard dick, it is only fair he can look at my hard nipples. “OK, whenever you are ready.” I said. I heard him swallow a couple of times. His beautiful voice, that always sounded so mature and rich and melodious, seemed so young now.
“Even before puberty set in, I knew I would end up in jail someday. I was really early when I found out that masturbation makes me feel real good. I was eleven when I ejaculated for the first time. It felt so good. I jerked off on a daily basis from that day forward. Every single day. I searched and found enough inspiration in books and magazines, of course. But were bare breasts enough for me to come? Hell, no. One day, I found a magazine with girls that were tied up in ropes. These things turned into my favourite things to spend gallons of sperm on. It became worse when I discovered movie clips. I could not understand how sick I was that I came the hardest when I saw the tits of a model turn red from a beating with a flogger. Or locked in a cage. Or… You get the picture. I was going to be a rapist and would spend my adult life behind bars. Not the bars of a cage, but the bars of a cell. Somehow, I wished I could be the one that would be content to sit in that cage and be the object of humiliation and pain instead of the need to give. My father says that the lowest thing a man can do is to hit a woman. And with every fibre of my being, I feel he is right about that.”
“What if that was her desire as well?” I whispered to him.
“I had to be quiet. Now it’s your turn, Syl. I can’t believe that you experienced these same feelings as I did. But I cannot act on it. I don’t know if I become a monster once I let myself go. What if I hurt you? Or do something horrible if I were to let go of all inhibitions? I would never forgive myself. With my ex I have stayed away as far as I could from anything slightly related to my dark inner feelings, Syl. For a reason!”
“And she left you because she thought you were boring.” I said. “She told me so. So why don’t you try for once to trust yourself the same amount I trust you?”
“This is dangerous stuff, Sylvia.”
I took my blindfold off and pressed his face between my titties. “I know. You can do this Koen. I know that as well. What are the chances our fantasies would match each other so perfectly? Koen, we were meant for each other. Don’t fight it. You can give me something I want, and vice versa. How many couples are so lucky to find their partner, their true mate, for life? I love you for being so cautious. But I am not made of fragile stuff. I can handle anything you want to give me, and I want you to give me a lot. Let me start by sucking everything out of that wonderful dick of yours.”
I said shyly, “This is where my journal entry ends, Master. I thought it would be good for mistress to know how we first got to really know each other, and how difficult it was for you coming out.
“You did well, slut. Tomorrow is the next diary entry.” Mistress Jutta said and disappeared with master Koen to their bedroom. Not before locking me into my cage underneath, of course.
